Poems

Two angel hands

As one thought may direct two hands, which workas one, which make and cleanse, combine, defend,refine, ward off, tie down, make smooth, enclose—so does the reach of gratitude merge withobedience to Principle, which graspsthe facts of real being, holds them firm.
To love means more,Much more,Than giving warm embraceOr voicing deep concern.

Audio Collection

A spiritual perspective on politics

We've gathered a variety of guests for this series, each with wonderful spiritual insights and proof that these spiritual ideas are effective—even for something that looms large, like politics.

From Free from Contagion

Bringing our prayers to the threat of contagion

Prayer can lift us out of the swirl of fear, and it can be a calming, healing influence in our communities as well.

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I am healed!

How beautiful the words, "I am healed!"Joy-filled heartsthanking God;practitioner and patient togetheron Horeb heightsing praisefor Truth revealed.

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Love's tender reign

The meadows of childhoodhint glimpse of infinity.

Just a minute

God never saysanything like that.

Correction

Birth is not beginning.

Audio Collection

Anthology of classic articles

Listen to this inspiring collection of articles.

Audio Collection

Anthology of classic articles II

Listen to this inspiring collection of articles.

From Place

"The secret place of the most High"

We learn in Christian Science that God is infinite Truth, Life, and Love and that He imparts to His creation only that which is completely beneficial.

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From Freedom from addiction

LOST AND FOUND

I saw that in order to find my life, I had to first lose it—that is, lose all sense of life as material.

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Inspired by a poem? Consider writing and sharing your own! Find out more by visiting Writer’s Corner.

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No need for grief

I do not need to grieve for you, my friend;you are the shining of the Light that never dims;Soul's song cannot be silenced nor unsung.

Demonstration

Leaning on staffs earned yesterday,advancing through present proof,I find the same familiar rod—perfect, eternal truth.

I hear the upward run

of sweet-sap springtime.

"It never was"

"It cannot be," "It never was,"Yet error lingered on,'Til Love divine dissolved the lieAnd "never was" was gone.

"Night airs"

The night is full of the soundof tinny transistorsplayed in the dark by the lonelywho lie in their beds, sleepless and sad,seeking comfort in quizzesand pop and a friendly voicerecounting the dire, the deadlynews of the worldas it spins to another dilatory dawn.

Eternity now

Just now.